Ruler of the Future
by Kurokoo
Summary: Canada awakes at a time in the future to find things have changed quite a bit. It appears to be a hell on earth. However, he has to decide if it is a future that must be stopped, or rather the perfect way to give justice to those who have wronged him. [Some hints of RusAme, but not fully a couple. Warning: Suicide]
1. Chapter 1

"America, we have to talk," Canada started, taking a deep breath and even managing to raise his voice over a whisper. He used the name America as opposed to the more casual Alfred so he could at least make the point that it was a serious subject he was on. "I don't appreciate how you treat me. How you forget my name so often, or how you sometimes don't even know I'm here. I don't like how often you make Canadian jokes about me, that you could tone it down every once in a while and not take every single thing I do and make it a joke. I don't like being the fool in April Fools every year, and the endless amounts of pranks you pull on me that aren't even pranks. What you did today… that was cruel, America… But worst of all is how I do so much for you and you just…. You never even say "thank you". You just look at me and say "wait, who are you again?". I feel so… so underappreciated and sometimes I just wish I could…."

He stopped, looking at the floor, then whispered softly; "wish I could actually tell you this…"

He looked around the empty room of his home. It was cold outside and he had a thick robe wrapped around his shoulders. It was April's Fools day and Alfred had played a prank on him again. Matthew was eventually left covered in maple syrup with feathers sticking to the sticky substance, watching as America, Alfred, his _brother, _took a picture and sent it to every other nation.

Matthew wouldn't admit it, but he had cried in the shower, and even now there was redness around his eyes that no other nation would ever see.

Sitting on his bed, he looked down at his phone. Alfred had even sent it to him, the picture of his shocked face, surrounded by a golden liquid and white feathers, looking up at the camera. No one else bothered to text him anything else. He was used to that, though. No one ever noticed him.

He pulled his knees up, pulling them close and resting his cheek on them as he watched the dark window. The snow fell softly outside, but it was a gentle snow. A kind snow.

The feeling of something pulling itself on the bed told him Kumakichi had crawled onto the bed with him.

"Who are you?" The polar bear said, sitting next to him and looking towards him with curious black eyes. Canada sighed.

"I'm Canada…." He said half-heartedly, laying down on the bed and watching the ceiling.

"Who?" The bear repeated.

He didn't respond this time, just sighing again.

He wished there was some way… Some way to make people notice him. If he could only be a person who no one could forget. A person that everyone recognized by name. That people would notice. He imagined vaguely that he could walk into a room and people would say "Matthew! You're here!". People would dote on him and care for him, and he would be important.

Closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, he knew nothing like that would happen.

* * *

Sitting up straight in bed, he looked around, a loud blaring in his ear that caused his heart to pound. Grabbing for his glasses that had fallen off in the night, he put them on and then located his alarm clock to shut off. Why did he ever buy such a loud thing….

Standing, shivering at the cold wooden floors, he looked at his phone. Six in the morning…. Time to head to another meeting.

While he pulled on his clothes, he vaguely wondered the importance of those meetings. They never got anything done. He didn't even think they affected anything to do with their countries. The world moved no matter how badly the meetings ended. They never made real decisions, they never had much of an effect on the international affairs. It was less like they were in charge of their lives, and more like other people were.

Did they have any meaning anyways?  
Taking note of his apparent sadness, he decided then that he would get ice cream on the way to the airport, and while he still felt low afterwards, it was much better.

The meeting was to be held in Italy, so he had some time to kill on the plane ride. After spending the first hour of it reading, he had quickly opted to sleep again, his sleep the night before being fairly rocky.

His dream during his nap was strange. He felt… something… Something far away. It wasn't a voice, but resembled it. Like some force were trying to relay something, but didn't know how to tell him. It reached for him, shaking him roughly, trying to call to him but unable to do so.

He awoke when he found himself being shaken awake by a flight attendant.

"The flight's over sir," the flight attendant said, clearly annoyed by his being there. "You have to get off."

He sat up, looking outside at the setting sun. Italy… He rubbed his head and grabbed his things. A headache was already forming.

"Ah… sorry…." He said quietly. "Just fell asleep, eh?"

Shuffling awkwardly off the plane, then soon out of the airport, his things being easy to locate by his Canadian maple leaf, he wandered around town, trying desperately to find someone who knew either English or French, he somehow managed to find the hotel he was staying at.

Flopping onto the bed, he looked at the time. It was around six in the evening, and he had planned to simply order pizza or get takeout or something to that effect. That was when he got the text.

It was from America of all people.

"Hey bro!" It read. "Sorry about the other day! Wanted to make it up to you. Me and some of the others are going to dinner. You should totally come! I'm buying!"

It then showed the address of the restaurant. Canada couldn't help but snort at that. America probably couldn't even pay for himself. He could almost see his twin begging China to borrow more money, and the nation would roll his eyes and foot the bill and then get to hear the same "Don't worry, I promise I'll pay you back!"

He was going to be passive aggressive that night, he knew it, but he would still go. Alfred needed a chance at least.

Slipping on a simple semi-formal dress shirt, he headed out the door, getting a taxi whose driver, thankfully, knew French, and arrived at the restaurant.

Stepping inside, it wasn't hard to locate the loud American, but the fact that America didn't even notice him, even as he coughed somewhat loudly next to him, wasn't a good sign. It took him shaking his shoulder roughly to get some attention.

"Woah! Who are you?" He said, whipping around to see him. Not a glimmer of recognition in his eyes…

"Matthew," The Canadian said flatly, eyes narrowed as he watched him. Human names for public places. That was the rules. America looked at him in confusion for a long time, and then it clicked.

"Matthew! Oh right!" He said. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

"You invited me," Canada said. The anger was seeping into his voice, but only as much as he let it. He could hide his anger very well.

"Oh! I did?" He said, taking out his phone to check. "Oh… I did! Hey, welcome!"

Matthew kept his arms crossed over his chest as he sat down at the end of the table. By "some of the others", Alfred basically meant every other country that was even attending that meeting. The former axis and allies, except Russia, were all there, as well as the Nordics, the Latino nations, the Asian nations, all of the nations in Great Britain, and most of Europe.

Matthew was seated between England and France, neither of which paid much attention to him. Actually no one did. That initial meeting seemed to be the best he was going to get.

He was doing a pretty good job of being unimportant, until one of the other nations, who was going behind him to say hi to someone else, was accidentally pushed into him, causing him to spill his drink over England. With that moment, everyone seemed to see him, and not in a good way either. Most of them held no recognition for him, and all of them were surprised to find him even there.

"Bloody hell!" Said the Brit. "This was a new shirt!"

"A-ah… I'm so sorry!" Canada said in a whisper of a voice, doing his best to clean off the drink. It was red wine too… And it was on a white shirt…

"It's probably ruined now…" England said in a grumble, before noticing Canada, staring up at him. "Wait… who are you?"

Canada froze, closing his eyes. This question again… He opened his mouth to speak, when one of the other nations spoke up. Italy himself.

"Oh I saw a picture of him yesterday!" He said happily. "America sent it to me!"

England looked closely at him, then recognition filled his eyes. "Oh, that's right," he said. "I remember now."

"The one with all the feathers?" Asked China, who was taking out his phone to see, along with every single other nation at the table.

He… he had sent it to everyone! Canada was horrified as he stared, open-mouthed. Some chuckled at the memory, most smirked a bit as they found the pictures on their phone, but not one seemed to care that Canada was still sitting there.

He was almost going to get up and leave, but before he could, the chair he was in was pulled back and, without warning, someone very large sat right on top of him. He made a soft "oof" sound, pinned between the chair and, the scarf immediately giving him away, Russia.

"Ah, so sorry I was late," The Russian said, taking no notice to Canada. "I only just received my invitation!"

"That's weird," Laughed America sarcastically, not bothering to hide his icy hatred. "I never sent you one so I don't think you could have gotten one."

"That was just a formality, Fredka," Russia replied with a hint of his own icy hatred. "I heard from Latvia that you were going to be here so I thought I would join the fun!"

Latvia flinched at his name, and shrank in his chair as America glared at him. Soon, America was standing up, leaning across the table.

"Why would you come to a place where no one wants you?" America replied.

That was all Canada could take… When Russia stood to meet America's glare, Canada took his leave. Why had he come anyways? No one wanted him there… Not one… Brushing away his tears and walking to the hotel instead of taking a taxi, he tried to keep calm, despite the impossibility of the task. Even as the tears started to flow freely, not even one person on the streets noticed him. Not one…

He never made it to the hotel that night. It was at least sixteen miles away from the hotel, and he had given up on it after about five. Sitting on a bench overlooking a canal, he breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of himself, but it was becoming so much more difficult with each breath…

God, if he threw himself over the railing and into the water, no one would care… His nation would be fine, no one would even notice he was gone. It'd probably be years before anyone would find his body.

Something inside him caused him to shiver from the fear. Fear of himself. Why didn't he just do it… Just… jump. It would be so easy. So much less painful than the life he was living now. No one cared now, so no one would care if he died.

It was the first time he really thought about it. No one was holding him back. Not one person would be upset if he died so he had no reason to fear leaving someone alone. There was Kumakata, but the bear was pretty self-reliant. He didn't even notice when Canada was gone…

Before he knew it, he was standing on the railing, feeling… terrifyingly calm. He didn't even look at the water rushing below. He just looked up at the moon high above.

He felt the cold night air on his face, but didn't shiver from it. He didn't even give himself time to think or regret. Instead he closed his eyes, and jumped…

* * *

Canada sat straight up, like he was waking up from a nightmare. He sat in a field, barren and cold. He thought he was lying in snow for a moment, and was partially right, but the snow was also mixed heavily with ash. The sky was completely covered with a smoky overcast, and he couldn't tell if it was night, or if the smoke covering the sky was too thick to see the sun. He noticed a fence, broken and pushed almost to the ground by some past force, surrounding the destroyed remains of some farmland, and one of the tiniest, most pitiful-looking houses Canada had ever seen. Coughing into his sleeve as he stood slowly up, only one thought crossed the nation's mind;

_Am I in hell..?_


	2. Chapter 2

He struggled to see past the smoke lingering in the air, but couldn't see much else beside the house. While in the distance he saw a few dark shapes, he couldn't quite tell what it was, so, the house was his only option.

As he slowly walked towards the little house, he carefully thought of himself and what he was feeling. He noticed he was feeling… strangely calm. If this truly was hell, as he suspected, then there was nothing he could do. He had jumped off the bridge, so this was what he had to face.

Stopping at the door, he wondered if he should knock, but was very surprised when the door swung open, even more surprised as he saw who was behind it. Russia loomed over him, but seemed almost a completely different person.

On the surface, Russia now wore what were practically rags. His shirt was a dirty brown, falling apart, and much too thin for the weather outside. His pants seemed to match his shirt perfectly, like it was made from the same material, but it was cut off from halfway between his ankles and his knees, exposing much too pale, thin calves. Actually, the rest of him, from his bare feet to his large nose, was much too pale, but also much too thin. He could see his cheek bones perfectly, and his eyes had sunken in. The clothes fell loosely over his body, as though there wasn't much more than bone underneath. One of the strangest parts of his appearance, however, was the lack of scarf around his neck.

In his eyes and expression was where Canada found the most difference, however. His violet eyes were no longer childish, nor threatening. He held a somewhat inviting smile, but his eyes betrayed the fact that he was terrified. Of what, Canada couldn't be sure, but it was certainly terror, an expression he had never seen the Russian bear.

"Matthew!" He said, voice cracking as badly as his dry lips. "You're here! I hope your trip was safe! Would you like to come in?" The way he stepped aside so Canada could step inside if he wished, but stay outside if he didn't, suggested that he was doing everything he could to keep Canada comfortable and in charge of the situation. Like he feared… Canada? No, of course not… He must have been imagining it.

"Ah… thank you?" He said slowly, looking him up and down. Russia was most likely still alive, so there was little chance he had ended up here. Canada guessed that this was something created for him to make him suffer, but if it was, why wasn't he suffering yet? Was he being lured into false security? Slowly stepping past the tall Russian, he opted to keep his guard up.

"Would you like me to take your coat?" He asked, standing behind him but not touching him. Canada shook his head and he moved past him. They stood in a mesh between a living room, bedroom, and kitchen. Everything about the house seemed to be crammed into one room, except…

"No bathroom?" He asked as he noticed the lack of one.

"Ah…" Russia suddenly became very nervous. "I'm afraid we do not have the technology for such a thing… If you need to use it… um…" He looked around, seeming as though he were about to break down at any moment from the sheer fact that he could not give Canada more than a shovel and some rags to relieve himself. Things were getting stranger every second…

"No, it's fine!" Canada said, quickly raising his hands. "I was just wondering…. I don't need to go, I promise."

Russia relaxed a bit at that, but still stayed on alert.

"Would you like something to drink?" He then asked. "Tea? Wine? Anything? Or maybe a snack?"

That was when Canada became aware of his own thirst. It was likely from the smoky air around them.

" Tea would be nice…" he said softly, and Russia nodded quickly, turning to speak with someone who Canada had managed not to notice. Someone who Canada should have noticed immediately.

"Alfred! Get Matthew some tea! Now!" Russia said harshly to America, who stood in the kitchen, head down towards some partially rotten vegetables he was doing his best to cut. That was when Canada knew something was very, very wrong.

America turned to look at Russia once, then quickly put a kettle on the stove. That was enough for Canada to get the whole picture.

He wore a long dress, one of the older style dresses, but appeared to be from the exact same material as Russia's clothing. His hair was grown out long and tied up into a bun, and his body was just as pale and thin as Russia's.

His entire demeanor seemed to be changed as well. His head stayed down towards the floor, his eyes avoiding anyone else's. His hands wrung together like rags and he always kept a hunched, enclosed posture. His eyes didn't hold the same love for life that they used to. They just held a terrible brokenness that Canada could have never imagined seeing on his brother's face.

Most of Canada was revolted and terrified by the image, but a part of him rose to the surface before anything else could. He laughed.

"Am I really in hell?" He asked, causing the pair to tense and stare at him. "Or maybe I went to heaven instead? Honestly, what's going on here?"

They both stared at Canada, then at each other, before America took a deep breath and returned to the making of the tea, opting to keep quiet. That left Russia, who just got more nervous at that. He fidgeted as he stood there, tapping his fingers together and looking anywhere else but Canada. There was a very long silence as he struggled to find the proper way to answer. Finally he spoke.

"U-um…" he said in a tiny voice that trembled as though it were balancing precariously on the edge of a large cliff. "W…. would you… um…. Like something to e-eat?"

Canada just stared at him, then huffed and crossed his arms, making the Russian before him shrink back.

"No, I'm fine. I want to know what's going on," Canada said, no longer laughing. He had to figure out what was going on… This was all too strange.

"I… maybe… um…." Russia was chewing on his thumb now, within seconds causing it to bleed. "Maybe you wo-would like m-me to get y-you some wi-wine?"

"I don't need any wine!" Canada huffed. His voice hadn't been raised by much, but by how Russia reacted, he might as well have screamed at him.

"I'm s-sorry!" He suddenly burst out, actually falling to his knees, head bowed, hugging himself tightly. Canada never thought he would see the day when Russia, the largest nation in the world, would kneel down before him, a trembling and, as he soon noticed, sobbing wreck. "I d-don't know what you're a-asking of me!"

"H-hey…" Canada said quickly. He never liked it when people cried… Crouching down in front of the Russian, he put a hand on his shoulder. Russia visibly flinched, but his eyes were wide, staring at the floor as he processed what was happening. "Don't cry, eh? I'm sorry for being so pushy but… I'm very confused right now. I'm pretty sure I'm dead, so I'd like to know where I am. This could be heaven or hell… Or maybe limbo? But then I doubt you would be here."

Russia was silent for a long time, trying to think of what he should say.

"You're…" he said softly, each word coming out carefully thought out. "You're not dead…. I think….. I'm almost certain of it…. But I… I don't know what else to tell you…"

Canada sat back on his heels. He wasn't dead? That might have been something he was told as a lie… But he decided to play along. This Russia, likely made by his mind somehow, certainly didn't think he was dead, and even if it was a lie made by someone else, he believed it.

"All right then…" Canada said slowly. "Well…. Maybe I'm dreaming? But then when did I fall asleep? Hmmmm…. It must have been after April Fools day…"

America almost seemed to jump up, tense and alert. He glanced over his shoulder at Canada.

"A-April Fools day?" He asked slowly, but whipped around when Russia suddenly glared at him, falling silent again.

Canada stood up quickly, waving a hand towards Russia.

"No, wait," he said. "Let him speak. What were you going to say about April Fools day?"

America didn't turn around, keeping his head down, but his mind was clearly working.

"Don't worry," he said. "I won't get mad, okay? I want to know what you were going to say. Please?"

America was silent, then spoke, but kept his head down, working on the cup of tea with somewhat shaking hands.

"I…. I played that prank on you…" he whispered slowly. "I… you…. You were so upset…. And I…. I never…. I'm so sorry….." His shoulders shaking gave away that he was crying.

Canada was, admittedly, stunned. Never once had America apologized for something… And he had only caught the man crying once, after he had continuously battered him with all his imperfections. They had gone for ice cream after that to make up for it.

"Hey, don't worry about it!" He said quickly. "I forgive…." He stopped, looking at his brother. He was in a dress, thin and pale, looking half dead. He seemed to have no hope in the world, no reason to go on living… And something in Canada seemed happy about it. That he was paying back all of his many mistakes. But another part was horrified at his initial satisfaction at the clear suffering that was happening in this house. "I forgive you." He finished.

America was still, then carefully turned to meet his brother's gaze. He seemed to be looking at someone he hadn't seen for a long time. Someone he hadn't expected to meet there. He looked closely.

"Mattie…?" He asked softly.

Then there was a quick knock at the door.

Russia and America froze, then Russia inched towards the window and looked outside. Any color that may have been on his face before, was gone now, and the reaction caused America to tense as well. Russia slowly turned and stared at Canada as though he were looking at a ghost, opening his mouth to speak, but was cut off when there was a knock on the door, making him jump. Russia walked swiftly to the door, and America went back to his making tea, though was mostly just waiting for the pot to boil at this point. Canada, who didn't quite know what else to do or how else to react to someone being there, took the first thought that came to his head and went with it; hide!

Looking around, he noticed the obvious lack of places to hide. He would run towards one thing, only to realize how terrible of a place it was, then try and run towards something else. In the end he was running around the room in a very awkward manner, eventually just trying to hide in a little spot behind the stove, even though he was still halfway exposed. For the first time, he hoped his invisibleness would kick in and save him.

The door opened, and he took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly. He didn't know why he was so scared, but something in him told him to fear whatever was behind the door just as much as America and Russia seemed to fear it. The first person to speak wasn't America, nor Russia, and it took him several seconds to realize just who that person was.

"Hm, I'm not used to actually having to knock," the voice said, the clicking sound of footsteps telling him the person was walking into the room. "Did you forget I was coming?" He chuckled. "Well maybe I'll just _forget _to send food to your people, _eh_?"

Canada's eyes snapped opened and he looked up with his mouth agape, just as two violet eyes locked onto him, and the person whom had just entered smirked an almost evil smirk, resting a hand against his own cheek.

"Oh, I see I've already arrived," He said. "Hello me."


	3. Chapter 3

Staring, mouth agape; no sound escaped either Canada's lips for a long while. The one who had just entered, the one who both Russia and America were terrified of, was the first to break the silence.

"It's unbecoming for the both of us for you to stay there," he stated. "We have a lot to talk about, and I know that place will get uncomfortable. It should be already, actually."

"He was right. Even as the copy of him spoke, Canada, Matthew, could feel his muscles tightening, back hurting from being hunched over, the rest slowly developing a very apparent soreness.

Standing, much too quickly, Matthew's eyes never left Canada's. The other was, physically, alike in every way besides clothing. Matthew was wearing his simple dress shirt and dark dress pants, while Canada wore a suit just a step down from a king's garb, only missing the cloak really. Around the shoulder, collar, and cuffs, jewels, which looked very real, were placed, shining in every color over the dark blue, nearly black surface.

In his eyes was where Matthew found enough difference to keep himself from considering this Canada a Matthew as well. His violet eyes held such a cold confidence, Matthew felt, without any other reason, helpless against anything Canada planned. He kept his calm smile present, while his eyes scanned the room, as though seeing if a flaw dared to get in his way. But even more present than his condescending gaze was such inhuman insanity that Matthew knew this copy shared little more than their faces, and had a hatred for him, which quickly grew with each word.

"Come on," Canada said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Sit down. I'm sure the tea is almost done. Right?"

His eyes locked onto America's, causing him to inhale sharply, then turn back to the tea, finishing pouring two cups just as Matthew sat down on the sad excuse for a couch.

"Thank you…" he said awkwardly as the tea was handed to him, and Canada set two chairs over a wooden slab that managed to pass as a coffee table, motioning for America and Russia to sit. The pair glanced at each other, before silently doing so. Setting the tea on the table, Canada began to speak.

"If I remember correctly, you were wondering where you were?" He said. With no idea what he should say or do, Matthew slowly nodded his head. "Well, I can promise you that you're not dead. If you were, then I wouldn't be here right now. No, this is Earth. However, right now it is the year…" He paused, thinking. "2349."

"Wh… what?!" He sputtered, mouth now completely dry. "How… what?!" Canada hummed softly, looking at him up and down, the small smile still present. He looked as though he were remembering something from long ago.

"I didn't know very much back then, did I?" He said. "What year was it?"

"2013…" Matthew said, then with more confidence; "It's 2013! It's August of 2013!"

"Was," Canada corrected. "Now it's much later." His smile seemed to grow. "2013… I remember that year well… But I have a lot to explain before we will get to that. Do you know your purpose?"

"My… my what?" Matthew wasn't sure what to believe at this point. For a moment he was dead, but now… what was going on?

"Your purpose," Canada replied, smile only growing with the knowledge he knew that his… younger self… didn't. "I see you don't know. Let me ask you another question. Why do you think you exist?"

"I'm… I'm Canada so…" He looked at his hands. "I never really knew…. I didn't think it mattered. I'm here so…"

"You are the existence of a country," Canada explained. "You're the people, the government, the military, and the land. However, no one in your time has understood just what you can do." There was a pause, and he studied his past self again. "Have you ever noticed when Russia gets angry that it seems to get colder? Though only while in his home?"

"Well…" he said slowly, then stopped. Yes… it was true. As though reading his mind, Canada continued.

"This is because Russia, as the former largest country in the world, was the closest to discovering this secret. The farther your boundaries reach, the more power you have. You don't notice it as much because you keep your emotions under control, and while Russia's were as well, they were less controlled, and his potential power was still greater than yours."

"So… what does that mean then?" Matthew asked, hands balling into fists on his knees. "So I can change the weather. So what?"

"The weather can sometimes move," Canada continued, pacing around the room calmly. Like a shark, Matthew thought… "A hurricane doesn't just sit in one space, correct? Normally it's created when a country from wherever it begins is upset, but it moves across the sea and can affect other countries as well. Have you ever heard of a polar vortex?"

Matthew slowly nodded. "Yes…" he said. "One exists in the northern part of my country, but I've learned to live with its existence…"

"It's something you can, and will, use to your advantage," he said. "The winter of 2013… That's the first time I brought it down south."

"W… you what?!" Matthew exclaimed. He could just… but that wasn't too far from his time! The time Matthew belonged in!

"It wasn't as far as I had liked," Canada continued. "It took quite a lot of energy, and I couldn't get out of bed for a month afterwards, but it was quite the shock to America. And each year it got worse and worse as I learned to control it…" America was shivering by now, as though he could feel himself being submerged in ice water. "Then the war began. As I said before, you are also the government and the military. Most countries feel helpless and allow a leader to run their lives. I've discovered that a leader is not necessary. I could control my armies from my home, give the generals orders by dreams and urges. I could keep the soldiers going through the cold by just the illusion of warmth sent from my being by my fireplace. I was an army. And, with the protection of my beautiful polar vortex, I took over America."

"That's…." Matthew couldn't find the words for it. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to decide what to say, before standing up. "That's _cheating_!"

"I forgot how naïve I was…" Canada said absently. With a sigh, he stood and approached his past self, speaking slowly. "I saw what I had to use, and I used it. It was nothing more than a tactical strategy. If anyone else had used their abilities, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am. Knowledge is power, as they say." He shoved Matthew down onto the couch again, which groaned dangerously. "But I'm not finished yet."

"What makes you think I'm going to even become like you?" Matthew spat back.

"You'll understand when I'm done," Canada said, going to the window and watching the snow fall. It had gone from a light snow to being a near blizzard. The nervousness was apparent in both America and Russia, the first of whom had closed his eyes and leaned his head back, the second keeping his gaze fixed on the wall towards his left. "Hm… where was I…. I sent my armies down south to America, taking over, Mexico soon following. Of course, other countries started attempting to stop me. Only a few, unsurprisingly, who were quickly stopped tsunami's, a complete overcast, thunderstorms… just about everything. No one could do anything. The others overseas were a bit more complicated, but when I began sending tsunami's, I could get a foothold on the land and there was nothing left for them to do."

"What about the people?" Matthew suddenly spoke up.

"Hm?" Canada responded, looking over his shoulder, as though coming out of a nice nap. "What about them?"

"They're you, right?" Matthew said. "You sent blizzards over them and you expect them not to notice?"

"The people are much less important," Canada sighed. "The more patriotic, the more I can feel their presence, but so few are dedicated enough to me to cause their pain to equal the pain of an army being beaten."

"They're your citizens," Matthew snapped. "Not just… toys. People! Your children!"

"I call them parasites," Canada snapped back. "They do nothing but complicate things. Which is why, in the future, you will come to your senses and make military duty mandatory."

"And what if they don't want to?" Matthew's voice was rising, slowly standing. "What about if they don't want to fight?!"

"Oh, they will anyways," Canada said calmly. "They are forced to by their parents from young, impressionable children. When they become soldiers, they become under my complete influence." He chuckled darkly, turning to completely face Matthew. "Don't you understand? I'm a God!"

"You're cowardly," Matthew spat instead, which caused an immediate change in his other self. "You are nothing but a coward! If you could do such great things, why not do them for good?" Silence followed, before Canada stepped towards Matthew, who didn't back down. His heels made a clicking noise on the wooden floor.

"This _is _good," Canada snapped back. "Not a single war breaks out anymore. Crime is nonexistent. People live life among each other. No hatred. Nothing goes wrong. This is world peace!"

"And them?!" Matthew gestured to Russia and America, who looked away. "You call _this _peace?!"

"No. I call it penance. Punishment. It's working wonderfully."

"It's unfair and cruel."

"Isn't being unseen by your own brother unfair and cruel?"

Silence followed that statement.

"It's…" Matthew started.

"Terrible," Canada sighed. "Suffering. No one sees it. No one cares. You tried to kill yourself. _We _tried to kill ourselves. And who noticed the breaking and the cracking?"

"No one…" Matthew whispered, staring blankly ahead as Canada stood behind him.

"No one but us," Canada nodded. "Crying yourself to sleep at night… Walking home in the cold in hopes of making it all numb… pills and tubes that did nothing… And all because-"

"Of them."

It had sounded so smooth and natural, that for a moment, Matthew thought Canada had said it, but the grin Canada held when he looked over his shoulder at his future self told him that it had come from his own lips.

"And they should all pay," Canada finished.

"What's the point of this then?" Matthew said weakly, his voice cracking as his mind went numb. He was motioning towards the pair in the chairs, but meant much more.

"The setup?" Canada asked with a soft laugh. "That was for my own amusement. Take two people who you hate who are rivals to each other and pair them together as husband and wife? That's hilarious, isn't it?" Matthew shrugged. He was questioning himself now… second-guessing everything he knew. "Just watch. I even have them trained."

Turning towards the pair, who were now alert, he addressed them. "You love each other, right?" He asked, and they nodded, somewhat unconvincingly. Canada grinned. "Prove it."

Matthew watched as the pair turned towards each other. Before either made another move, they interlocked their fingers together, but something told him that it wasn't part of the act they were putting on. They kissed, but it quickly turned into a more passionate one, moving on and escalating from there. They were making out on the chairs, then the chairs were knocked over and they were on the floor, Russia over the top of America, their hands never pulling away. They did it so naturally…. And Matthew could easily tell where it would be headed from there… Russia's free hand was already tugging at America's collar.

"Stop!" Matthew shouted, causing the pair to freeze, pulling apart slightly to look at him. "Just stop! I… I don't… I don't want this…"

They looked to Canada, whose smile was gone the first time that evening. He raised a hand, signaling for them to move apart. Unlocking their fingers, they stood carefully, neither able to face Matthew at that point in time, just going back to sitting silently. Obediently…

"You don't want this," Canada repeated, stepping forwards towards his past self. "You want to go back to being nothing. To being nonexistent to everyone else? Unimportant?"

"I never said that…" Matthew said, stepping back. "I just don't want _this._"

"Well then," Canada laughed, smile returning, but holding a new danger. "You're out of luck, because I _am _your future. There is nothing you can do to stop me."

"I just… I won't become you!" Matthew snapped.

"Then why am I still here?" Silence followed this statement. Reaching forwards, Canada grabbed him by the throat. "This is your future. You should get used to it."

Dragging him to the door, he opened it wide and shoved Matthew out, slamming it behind him.

Instead of hitting cold snow, however, Matthew found himself tumbling over a cobblestone sidewalk. Sitting straight up, breathing hard as he looked around, he saw that he was sitting on the ground in Italy again, next to the place where he had jumped. Or… he thought he had.

His hands trembled as he picked up his glasses that had fallen off and slowly stood up, looking around. It must have been… a dream? Something of that sort… Maybe he had fallen asleep on the bench… That must have been it.

Even so, as he walked down the street in hopes of finding some transportation back to the hotel, his hands kept shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Aren't you cold?"_

_ "I'm fine… I want to wait a bit longer…"_

_ "You've been waiting for hours. This is getting boring."_

_ A pause._

_ "What's this for?"_

_ "Because I can tell you're cold. I want it back though."_

Matthew woke up much too late, but knew he didn't care the second he opened his eyes. Sure, he was late to the meeting, but would a single person notice this fact? He never got to speak anyways. And he'd most likely get sat on at some point.

One of those mornings…

He lay in bed at least an extra thirty minutes, and sat up in bed for another ten. He just felt low that morning. Like the sky had gone crashing down in his sleep. It didn't help that he had a splitting headache now, likely from hitting his head on the sidewalk the night before.

When he managed to drag himself out of bed, mostly on the self-made promise of pancakes with extra maple syrup, he glanced at the clock. It was almost five PM, which was understandable considering the sun was starting to rise when he got back to the hotel.

World Meetings were supposed to start from nine to ten AM, but knowing everyone else, they could be pushed back as far as two in the afternoon, and not be out until six or so.

He might be able to get someone's notes (or "borrow" them and return them later because they didn't notice him asking for them), so he figured that it was worth going for that at least. And maybe for some food on the way home.

Carefully slipping into his suit, he took a taxi to the world meeting center, arriving at five thirty. The sound inside, however, confirmed that the meeting was still ongoing.

Opening the door and slipping calmly inside, he put his hands into his pockets. The sounds of loud voices told him that there was a very heated argument going on. Stepping past the lobby and into the meeting room, he knew he was in for something interesting. Especially when, for the first time, all eyes locked on him. America was halfway across the table, screaming something at Russia who, surprisingly, was snapping back rather harshly. Russia didn't scream, but he could make it seem like he was quite easily.

Why was everyone looking at him? Because of what America said next, eyes locking onto Canada.

"Right?!" He exclaimed, staring at his twin, looking for someone to confirm whatever he had just said.

"What?" Canada replied, rubbing his temple. Not a good day for this at all….

"I'm right, aren't I?" America asked, hopefully, but Canada was still in such a bad mood that he became immediately cold.

"Well I haven't heard what you said," he spoke calmly, not even noticing his voice was above a whisper now, despite everyone else did, "and you're probably not going to give me the chance to learn it, so I'll go with what's normally the answer when you ask that question; no."

"So that means I'm right!" Russia said in subdued triumph.

"No," Canada said flatly, causing a deeper silence to appear than before. Like everyone had even stopped breathing. "I never said that, did I? You're just as bad as he is, if not worse. Actually, your ideas tend to be the most violent. Which means my answer would be no for you too."

A dark aura was forming around the Russian man, but Canada didn't back down. Before he could get a word out, Canada stepped closer to him, his voice becoming darker, but more familiar.

"Oh, so you're going to use that dark air of yours again?" Canada said smoothly. "Here's a question; can you do any more than that? Have you ever once hurt anyone by creating this ridiculous aura of yours?" Silence again. "I thought so. You have so little power don't you? Pathetic."

Turning, he walked towards the door, but froze again as America spoke.

"Hey, dude, what's your problem?" America said, causing the Canadian to whip around, though America didn't so much as flinch.

"My problem is the fact that you've not once said my name today," he said. "Let me guess; you forgot? Did you assume I was just some guy who walked in here?"

America opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Exactly," Canada responded, turning and walking towards the door, but was stopped when America hurried over, grabbing him by the arm.

"Hey, Michael, I could never forget you!" America said. That was it…

Whipping around, Canada's fist cracked against America's jaw. Not only did his own knuckles seem to crack, but so did the bone and teeth in his twin's jaw. Stumbling and falling backwards, head slamming into the table, then the floor, America rolled over onto his stomach, groaning and holding his cheek, coughing up some blood that was pooling into his mouth, threatening to choke him. Everyone remained speechless, and Russia was the first to stand up and walk towards Canada in a threatening manner, but Canada was already leaving.

Stopping at the door, he turned back around to face the whole room. All eyes were on him. All eyes were filled with at least a hint of nervousness, if not outright fear. It felt… good.

"And my name is Canada," he said, addressing them all. "Matthew, Canada, the second largest country in this entire Goddamn world. And none of you had better forget it."

The door slammed behind him, and he walked down the street, a cold calmness washing over him. He had never felt so powerful before. Not once… He liked it. And if fear meant power, he wanted more of it. Much more. So much that people would tremble at his name.

He stopped in his tracks as he remembered the dream he had last night. Where his other self lived in the world he had just thought of. Could it be possible…

Shaking his head, he continued to walk on, but was already planning things in his head. It started with a plane ticket home.

"_Hey…"_

He stopped again, looking around. Was someone talking to him?

"_I know you're sad… but please…"_

He turned around the other way, trying to locate the voice. It was strange… it sounded both familiar, and unfamiliar. He soon found he couldn't even tell what gender it was.

_"Never forget who you are, okay?"_

He stood still, waiting for it to speak again, but the voice was gone. Looking up at the cloudy sky that threatened to snow, he pulled his coat tighter around himself, feeling colder than he had in a while. Something told him that this winter would be a terrible one.

* * *

He opened his eyes and found himself staring a tiny fireplace that barely passed as one, generating at least a bit of heat in the freezing cold. The last thing he remembered was buying a plane ticket for the next day, and then falling asleep in the bed, watching the snow fall outside his hotel window. He was certainly not in that room anymore.

Lifting up his head, he slowly looked around the room. It was that dream place again… where he had been faced with his other self. At least four blankets were wrapped around him, and it wasn't too hard to guess that it was all the blankets they owned. Sitting in a chair next to him was America, arms hugging himself as he leaned back, trying not to sleep.

Canada was about to speak, when Russia walked up behind America. Canada felt the slightest twinge of nervousness at that, but it faded when he spoke.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked, rousing America from his sleep.

"I'm fine… I want to wait a bit longer…" America replied, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You've been waiting for hours. This is getting boring."

America didn't respond, just looking at the fireplace quietly. With a sigh, Russia left a moment, coming back soon after with the familiar scarf. By how he held it, one could easily replace it with diamonds and have the same reaction. There was dust covering it, and a few holes from where it had been torn in years past. The color was faded, but it still stood as strong as it could. Dusting it off a bit, he wrapped it around America.

"What's this for?" America asked, looking down at it in shock.

"Because I can tell you're cold. I want it back though."

There was more silence, before America pulled up a second chair, motioning for Russia to sit as well. After hesitation, he did, and America wrapped the scarf around him as well. The two shared a silent moment, watching the fireplace together, shivering side by side. They weren't America and Russia in that moment; countries that rivaled each other. They were just Alfred and Ivan, two people who were terribly hungry and terribly cold. Once again, they intertwined their fingers, and Canada began to understand that they were the weight of each other. The only thing keeping them grounded. Canada felt a deep guilt build in him for what he had yet to do.

Slowly sitting up, he noticed the stiffness of his muscles, and just how cold he felt. Shivering as the blankets fell off his shoulders, he spoke as he pulled them back up. "What happened…?" He asked, feeling the dizziness of a cold wash over him.

America was the first to jump up, carefully undoing himself from the scarf and allowing Russia to take it all, who gained the smallest bit from his old form with it.

Crouching down next to him, America looked him over carefully, checking his forehead for a fever, pulling back as he felt the burning heat. As America checked him, Canada noticed how stiff it was. The America he knew wasn't naturally nurturing (though he _was _very protective), and neither was this one. The nurturing part was something he was making up for the motherly wife role he was given.

"He threw you into the blizzard…" America explained softly, adjusting the covers over him and deciding to make soup, or what he could manage as soup. Something warm… He was using his fake, innocent wife voice again; jarringly different from the normal voice he had used with Russia. "He told us to leave you there but… well it was thirty minutes after he left and you looked so still…. I was worried…"

Canada wanted to speak more. To ask why someone would try and be so sweet to a person who grew into their warden. Tell him to be honest as he spoke and not use that fake persona that he was made to use. He just wanted to know how truthful his concern was. If it was because he was supposed to be motherly, or if he really cared.

Canada had decided to himself that America was just trying to get on his good side and change the future, just as he realized he couldn't find the strength to reply. The fever was getting to him now, and he was feeling rather tired. All he could get out in response was "ugh…" as he fell back on the pillow.

Russia, who was the closest now that America was attempting to make him soup, moved to his side. As a person, Canada couldn't say he knew much about Russia, but he couldn't count the times that Russia had sat on him at a meeting. Still, now he pushed Canada's hair back and felt his forehead himself, then left, only to come back with a cool damp rag he placed on his forehead. He had much more of a nurturing instinct than America, and it showed as he made Canada more comfortable. His face stayed still and stern as he worked, finding no need in speaking.

* * *

Canada must have passed out some point after that, because when he awoke next, Russia was asleep on the little bed nearby. America, however, still sat next to him, the soup on the burner just in case.

America sat on the ground next to him, fighting off sleep quietly. Canada was starting to sleep again, when his twin spoke up.

"Hey…" he said softly, looking directly at Canada.

Canada gave a weak "Hm…?" noise, listening with half-lidded eyes.

"I know you're sad… but please…" He paused, trying to find his train of thought, then it came back to him. "Never forget who you are, okay?" He then settled down, his arms making a nest for his head to rest right next to Canada's stomach. Canada recalled feeling a sense of déjà vu, before promptly passing out once more.


	5. Chapter 5

Canada's fingers tapped on the wooden table in the meeting room as he watched all his "superiors" speaking about him. He had called the meeting and told them of what he believed he had discovered; that he could control the weather through his thoughts. Now, after he had informed them, they all pushed him out of the conversation as they argued on if it was real and what to do with it if it was. Not once did they look his way to ask his opinion on the matter.

His eye gave a twitch when one said, "Can we truly trust what he says? He can never speak up for himself so attempting to now is rather ridiculous. I think it's all lies to get attention."

"I don't think you should-" Canada started to defend himself, but was cut off by the sweep of the conversation.

"Surely that's all this is," another snorted. "But this is a rather strange way to go about it. I'd suggest doing a mental health check when this is all completed."

"I don't need to have a-"

"But what if he's right?" Another butted in, causing a bit of hope to flourish in Canada, which was quickly put out when another interjected.

"You honestly believe that the weather can be changed due to _his _will?" The other snapped, not even gesturing to Canada as he said "his".

"I honestly believe that I-" Canada's tone was becoming harsher and harsher as he spoke, but still they cut him off.

"This is a ridiculous conversation."

"I'm not trying to-"

"I think this meeting is over."

People were starting to nod in agreement with the last sentence.

"Hold on! I think that we-"

"This meeting is adjourned." People were starting to gather their things.

"If you would just listen to me-"

Now the bustling of those he had called cut him off. His hands balled into fists and he could feel cold rage clouding his features."

"_**SHUT UP!" **_He boomed as a shock of lightning cracked behind him and the loud roar of thunder followed and echoed into the silence. The power went out for a moment, then flickered to life again, illuminating a room of stunned faces, all staring directly at Canada. A somewhat creepy grin crept its way onto his face.

"Good," he said in a quieter, but no less dangerous tone. "Now that I have all of your attention, I have some plans I'd like to discuss with you."

* * *

"Matthew, I'm worried…" England said on the other side of the phone. "Francis is too. As well as every other country. We don't like seeing you so…" He trailed off.

Canada stayed silent. He had been listening to England talk for a few minutes now. He had used human names to try and soften his words, and kept informing Canada how much he cared about him, except he barely even remembered his name before he had become someone so…

"Powerful," Canada finished for him. "That's it, right? You're upset that I became someone actually threatening to you."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," England sighed. Canada could tell he was rubbing his temples to ward away a headache. He sounded the same when he talked to America or France…

"Then what is it?" Canada snapped back. "I speak up for myself and everyone acts like it's the end of the world! Like I have to be some shadow in the background!"

"Punching someone is not the same as standing up for yourself," England huffed.

"As though you should talk. You get into fights with France all the time."

"That's different! It's been years since I've actually broken something, or left more than a bruise for that matter. When I did, it was when I was young and stupid.

"I don't think you can possibly understand what I'm going through. I don't understand why you're trying. You're the UK. You tried taking over the world. Every country knows who you are. I'm just Canada; the second largest country, not the first. No one bothers to remember me." He paused, then said darkly. "But I'm going to make sure they do."

"That's- wait… Canada? What are you going to do? Matthew! Don't you dare do something rash! I'm coming over-"

Canada hung up and tossed the phone away from him. It landed on the floor of his bedroom and slid halfway under the dresser. Every few moments or so, it would light up again, buzzing on the floor, showing that England was trying to call.

Of course… he must have heard that tone of voice before. He had lived long enough to know what it meant when another country sounded like that. Hell, he had probably sounded like that a few times himself.

Canada was going to take over the world.

* * *

"_I hope you understand that we never hated you…" He said quietly. "We may have forgotten your name, or mistaken you for your brother, but we never hated you. We all love you very much, and if you ever need help when you wake up, please ask one of us. Please… Don't lose yourself."_

Matthew slowly woke up, feeling a bit groggy. The fever was still evident, but it was much better than it had been.

Spending several moments laying there, debating the pros and cons of getting up, he finally decided that he had better get up anyways, and dragged himself to his feet, keeping one blanket wrapped around him.

America was still asleep next to him, and he didn't want to wake him, so Matthew carefully draped two of the other blankets around his shoulders, putting the last on Russia, who was still sound asleep on the bed.

Walking over to the stove, he turned it off, glad it wasn't a gas-stove.

The soup was kept warm, and, noting the small rumble in his stomach, he decided it best to eat some now. It'd hopefully make his cold better.

America had done his best, but it was very salty, and the lettuce and… chicken (or what he hoped was chicken)… used wasn't the best quality. Looking around, Matthew guessed that he had used anything he could. It wasn't England-level bad, but it wasn't France-level good either. It filled him up enough, though, so he didn't complain.

Finishing off the last of it, Matthew looked out the tiny window in front of the kitchen, watching the snow fall softly to the barren, dark earth. It was much better than the blizzard the other day, but still rather cold, causing the Canadian to pull the thin blanket tighter around himself.

Squinting into the distance, now able to see more, since the fog had lifted, he could see the silhouette of a few small buildings in the distance. What surprised him, however, was even further, almost out of view, was more buildings, but these were much taller. Much more… modern than before. He was starting to wonder what they were when a figure came into view, walking towards the door.

The figure was slightly bent over, a position that suggested he was somewhat nervous with himself at all times. He was rigid and frightened, a shell of a human. It took a few seconds more to pinpoint that the figure was England.

Matthew choked briefly on the rest of his soup, stepping back from the window in shock. Now that he was closer, Matthew could see the sunken eyes, the weary frame, and the terrible brokenness that emanated from the figure.

He wore clothes that had once been high-class, but were torn and ragged from work. They hung limply over his body, and he walked as though in constant pain. He looked simply exhausted.

Then he knocked on the door, and in a second, Russia was stumbling to his feet, half-asleep but alert to knowing that the door needed to be opened as soon as humanly possible. America pulled himself up, stumbled on the blanket, then found his way to the kitchen, standing there as though not quite knowing what to do, but knowing he had to be there, lest he get in trouble.

The door opened, and there was an immediate relaxation in the air. The two both knew that England wasn't a threat to them, but Matthew stayed slightly hidden. He knew what the other Canada did, and that it made those he did it to terrified of him. It was like he was hiding from a frightened rabbit, so not to startle it with his presence.

"Canada has asked that all towns come to the capital city for a meeting," England said, trying to keep his breath steady. The very name had caused his breath to quicken some. "He said it was important. He also included that you two would have someone extra to bring."

America jumped a bit as he remembered, looking around to find Matthew. When his eyes locked on him, hiding ever so slightly behind the fridge, the blue-eyed blonde jumped with a small noise of alarm, having not quite gotten ready for the suddenness of seeing him here.

It faded quickly when he remembered which Canada it was, but England had noticed. His eyes followed where America was looking, and he, quite frankly, nearly passed out.

He looked like he might actually be sick, but put a hand over his mouth and stepped forwards towards Matthew. He took a moment to calm himself down enough to speak.

"I'm s-sorry for th-the rude-rudeness, sir," He said, bowing so deeply that he might have fallen over. Even when he straightened, he kept himself slightly bowed in front of him. "Ple-please forgive m-my idiocy."

"I…" Matthew said slowly, looking around at America and Russia. They both grimaced, clearly knowing what England was going through. America especially had an underlying sadness at the sight. "I'm not upset…"

"O-of course!" England blurted out, sweating nervously, his entire frame shaking like a leaf in the wind. "I-I'm so sorry for suggesting you were!"

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know," Matthew sighed. He hated how nervous they acted around him. He wondered if he could ever get used to it. Memories of the meeting before and the decisions made there were fading into the back of his mind. "I'm not that Canada you know."

England dared one glance up towards him, then bowed deeper and directed his gaze towards the floor again, scared he'd be yelled at for such a small gesture.

"Hey, don't panic, okay?" Matthew said. He wanted to touch and comfort the man, but something told him that any physical action might send him into seizures. "I'm not from here. I'm… I'm actually from the past. Back when I was nice." _And quiet. And invisible. _

England stayed silent a long while, before straightening ever so slightly. "I will continue the task you gave me," he said firmly. He didn't believe him… "If you need me, please call…"

With that, he turned and scurried back out the door without giving Matthew time to call him back.

"Any chance he might get in trouble for speaking casually with you," America softly explained, shifting, "is a chance he doesn't want to take…"

"But what if I'm trying to help him?" Matthew argued softly.

"It doesn't matter," America shook his head. "What happens where he was placed has taught him to take the road with less chances for failures. If Russia and I mess up around _him_," the him in question was clearly that other Canada, "our people don't get food for a few days, or they get worked even harder, or sometimes worse. If he messes up…" He trailed off.

"Torture," Russia finished, closing his eyes. Their place was terrible in this world, but they must have considered themselves somewhat lucky at times. Especially when they got visits from England. "Starvation, humiliation, beatings, isolation… Through both him and his people."

A terrible silence overtook the room in that moment, and Matthew couldn't help but imagine that the person doing all of this was himself. Himself in some future world where things always went his way. Yet his way was to have his old family members tortured.

"We should get going," Russia said, snapping Matthew out of his thoughts.

"Going? Where?" Matthew asked. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he was hardly aware of what happened.

"To the capital city," Russia explained. "All the towns are summoned there."

"Towns?" He asked, and Russia let out a soft sigh.

"We'll explain on the way," America said, walking to the door quickly. "If we're late…"

Russia nodded, then followed, both waiting for Matthew now.

Matthew gave a glance around the house, then stepped forwards after. He'd only have one way to find out more about this place. Then maybe he could help stop it from ever happening.

Or… make sure it always would.


End file.
